


Trade Winds

by jessahmewren



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early Days, Eventual Romance, F/M, MSR, Post-Episode: s02e08 One Breath, Undercover Missions, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: Early in their partnership, Mulder and Study go to Cuba to expose a fraud but find themselves closer than ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the XmasFiles Creative Challenge on Tumblr. Day 22: Mistletoe

-0-0-0-

"Now you."

Scully eyed the amber liquid impassively. Without looking at Mulder, she palmed the shot glass and tossed back the drink without a thought. The rush of warmth that followed it was both weakening and empowering. She hadn't let go like this in a while, and it actually felt good.

"If I didn't know better I would think you were trying to get me drunk Mulder."

He smiled what Scully secretly referred to as his Oxford smile but said nothing. He tossed back his own shot, finishing with ease and flourish. He methodically poured another and pushed it to the center of the table. Her turn.

The little hangout on Cuba’s south beach was bustling in the late hour. It was Christmas time, mistletoe and paper lanterns hung from the ceiling and the air was smoky and thick. It was her first time out of the country with her new partner, and while she was not sure if drinking on the job was SOP, she wouldn’t be mentioning it in her report.  

She reached for the latest shot, favoring Mulder with a challenging stare.

But for once, he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were trained on the front entrance, on the bulky, dark-clad figure walking in. Suddenly, he stood and was at her side in a second. He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up. When she protested, he leaned into her hair. "Manny's here," he said into her ear. "Oh, and I forgot to mention this, but you're my dance instructor."

She looked at him with open disdain. "I can't dance," she said through clenched teeth. If looks could kill, Mulder thought he might be dead on the floor.

Mulder gave her a tight smile. "Just follow my lead," he said smoothly.

They were in Cuba to expose a man claiming to have technology for sale…alien technology.  Mulder knew he was a fraud (for once, she mentally amended), but suspected his ties to the U.S. government and maybe even the Syndicate went deeper than what appeared on the surface.  

Mulder pulled her onto the dance floor, crushing his body against hers. Her legs were rubbery from an hour of drinking, and Mulder's proximity only worsened matters. The room was hot, and he was too close. Much too close.

The music started and he opened up their frame. It was the cha-cha, she surmised, and absolutely terrifying. "Mulder, please." Scully looked at him with such desperate pleading that he almost took pity on her. Almost. Instead, he led her through the steps with such mastery that it looked like he was the novice. "Up here, Scully." She was looking at the floor. "Into my eyes.”

She met Mulder's gaze and found herself steadied, relaxed. As instructed, she focused on him. She noticed with fascination how his eyes vacillated from hazel to brown to grey and back again. After a few moments, she could not feel the floor or hear the music; there was only Mulder, and she was tethered to him. The ease of it unnerved her, the comfort of the space between them, his hand warm and fingers splayed across her back. Overwhelmed, she pulled away from him, nearly stumbling, and instantly regretted that last shot. "Dammit, Mulder, why can't you just slow dance like everyone else?"

He laughed then and drew her close. "Whatever your pleasure Scully."

His eyes portrayed a sort of dark charm as he encircled her. His hand smoothed down her back, stopping to rest firmly just below its usual place. She prayed silently that he couldn't feel her tremble. The other hand slipped beneath her hair, the lightest of touches, yet his cool fingers on her delicate skin produced a tight coil of warmth low in her belly. Her heart beat faster. Seemingly of their own will her hands moved up across his broad shoulders, returning the embrace. Mulder was both supple and strong, and his shoulders beneath her hands felt like coming home.

With her head on his chest, she didn't have to look at him; it was her only salvation. The security she felt when she was this close to him was disturbing. Wordlessly, they swayed to the music, the alcohol's effects only augmenting Scully's sense of peace.  Her eyes slipped closed.

His chicn brushed the top of her head, settling there as they began to sway. The smallest sound from him reverberated through their bodies, something akin to a low purr, and the shockwaves of that little moan began to threaten her fortitude. He nuzzled her ear.

"You're not a bad dancer Scully."

It was the first time he'd ever lied to her. His voice, deep and rich, was the same timbre of that little sound, and she caught the heat and scent of him full force. Scully could feel his breath stirring the tendrils of hair at her neck, little puffs of warmth as they swayed rhythmically to the music. His lips brushed her hairline, the gently slope of her forehead, and she openly shivered. The soft chuckle that elicited from him was delightful, and he tightened his arms around her to quell the quiet tremble there. The feel of that sound from him was something she could get very used to, she realized. She imagined her resolve unraveling in ribbons at her feet.

Mulder withdrew, wanting to see her face, and Scully inwardly frowned at the loss of contact. He cupped the back of her neck with one hand, the other still around her waist. He looked into her eyes.

It dawned on her then, with her body nested perfectly into his and with the warmth and strength of his arms around her and his soft eyes searching her face, that she wanted him. She wanted Fox Mulder, the FBI’s foremost criminal profilers and now the black sheep of his graduating class,  _her_ partner, more than she had ever wanted anyone. It was an admission that both freed and disturbed her.

"Get your hands off me," she protested weakly. She pushed against him, but it was no use. Her face was flushed and she was breathing rapidly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he murmured into her hair, "unless you want to get us both killed. Manny has at least two men watching us."

She looked then and she could see them clearly. Two imposing men in dark clothes stood near the other exits. They tried to blend in with the relaxed, celebratory atmosphere, but failed miserably.

She wrapped her arms around him then and felt him instantly relax. Secretly, she smiled at her power and wondered briefly how else it might be manifested with him. Just as she had begun to contemplate specifics, a boisterous voice broke her revelry.

“Marty, you old gigolo, you always had a weakness for the ladies." Manny clapped Mulder on the shoulder good-naturedly, a gesture Mulder simply ignored. "As good as any weakness to have," Mulder countered coolly. Scully wondered briefly if he was annoyed by the interruption.

"Manny, this is my dance instructor, Ann. Ann, Manny, the most nefarious womanizer you will ever have the displeasure of meeting."

Manny chuckled as he took Scully’s hand to his lips. "You've just described yourself Marty," he said in a thick Cuban accent. "Let's get a table, shall we?"

They dined on spicy fish with rice and black beans and fresh fruit. Manny talked freely about the purchase of his contact and the purchase of alien technology, a coded circuit board that supposedly should allow aircraft to fly much faster than previouly thought possible.

"I'm interested in meeting Sergei," Mulder said casually. "When will he be arriving in Havana?"

Manny looked guarded, uncomfortable at the mention of the man's name, Scully surmised. Probably some bad blood between them despite their history. Scully could detect fear in the man's face. She was beginning to understand the duplicitous nature of the criminal relationship.

"Tomorrow." He took a swig of water around his mouthful of food. "I'd like you to deal with him through me, Marty."

Mulder remained impassive. "Out of the question," he said firmly. "You know I meet all of my contacts in person." Scully mulled that over. Mulder had something once about the first meeting with someone being the most important.  He wanted to size Sergei up, catch him off his guard.  She wondered briefly if he had done the same with her.

"Marty, this man is a small fish in a big, unfamiliar pond. You would gain more access to him by being less approachable." Manny fingered his large gold watch. "Make a statement."

Mulder cocked his head, seemingly in thought. "You want to be the intermediary," he said smoothly. "Make a profit from my business transaction. Don't you think you've made enough money just by having skin in the game?" His eyes narrowed.

Manny's eye twitched. Scully could feel the presence of his henchmen where they stood blocking the exits at strategic points throughout the establishment. She suddenly realized with some surprise who Manny was afraid of. Mulder.

The man laughed heartily, poorly masking his apprehension. "Marty, you do me a disservice," he said with a nervous laugh. "I only mean to make things better for you. If you want to maintain your position in Havana, you have to be more strategic." His eyes flitted to Scully, down to her breasts, and then back at Mulder. "Don't get distracted."

She could feel Mulder tense, his jaw tightened. Scully couldn't decide what had angered him more, Manny telling his cover how to run things, or his lascivious little glance in her direction. Whatever it was, he was livid in that very Mulder way of his. His eyes were smooth, but there was a darkness there. His full mouth was pursed.

"You mean only to make things better for you," Mulder said darkly. Scully had no idea who Manny thought Mulder was, but Mulder was playing it to the hilt.  Suddenly Mulder stood, reaching for Scully’s hand. "I will meet with Sergei in the morning. We may not meet again."

Manny swallowed then, fully examining the implication of Mulder's words. Manny said nothing as he watched the two walk arm in arm into the night.

-0-0-0-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Xmas Files Creative Challenge Day 23: Peppermint

-0-0-0-

The hacienda they had rented was warm and thick with night air. The large windows were open, and gossamer curtains breathed gently with the swaying breeze. The room was spacious and well apportioned, lit nearly entirely by the large pale moon through the open windows.

"Can I get you something Scully?" Mulder was sipping a local beer from a longneck bottle. Scully put her hand up.  "I've had quite enough for one night, thank you."

She sat down on a beautiful chaise lounge and contemplated a shower, but Mulder was across the tiled floor and next to her with his drink before she could move to stand. There was a folder on the coffee table in front of them. He noticed her eyeing it.

"Your cover story for tomorrow," he explained. She thumbed through the pages as he talked. "You are an American defector now living in Russia. You have intimate knowledge of weapons systems on American fighter jets and would like to make a contact with infinite resources. Your ambition should line up well with Sergei's." He set the beer down and sat back on the reclining end. "You're just starting out, like Sergei, so you should not pose a threat to him. What you do pose is an opportunity to make lots of money. You're using me as an intermediary."

Scully simply looked at him, somewhat amazed.  “How long did it take you to put this together Mulder?  I mean this Manny guy and now this?  Who does he think you are, anyway?”

Mulder quirked his mouth and ran a hand through is light brown hair.  

“A hacker named Marty. Someone with influence within the government.  I’ve been after this guy for a few months now…met him in a chatroom.  I realized what he was doing soon after we started talking--taking advantage of abductees, exploiting their stories for financial gain…selling bogus technology on the black market.”  He looked at her, his eyes warm.  “It’s disgusting Scully.”  

That’s so Mulder, she thought. Protecting the innocent, the disenfranchised.  She wanted to say something, but she only nodded, placing the file on the table in front of them. The little stretch caused her to wince, and Mulder missed nothing.

"Scully, what's wrong with your shoulder?" His concern was genuine as was his curiosity; very little ever took him by surprise.

She rubbed her left shoulder absently. "I don’t know,” she said evasivly.  “Maybe from dancing?”  

He said nothing but his eyes never left her face. His hand reached out, but she flinched away. She resented the ownership he sometimes exacted over her, but she often found herself powerless against it. She put up a hand between them. "There's nothing wrong with me, Mulder.” Her shoulder throbbed; it seemed outraged at the lie and was eager to prove her wrong.

Dutifully he withdrew his hand, watching her intently. Waiting. She looked down at her lap for several moments.

"Duane Barry...hurt me," she said finally. The words were barely audible. She had told no one until now.  “It’s from being in the trunk.  I was pressed up against the tire iron.  It’s never fully healed.”  Her voice never broke, but a single tear slid out from under her thick lashes.

Mulder hadn't breathed. He watched her with rapt attention, but his face was drawn tightly. Cool fingers caressed her face. "Scully." His voice was ragged, and when she looked into his face, his eyes shone with unspent tears. "I'm so sorry I couldn’t find you." He pulled her to him gingerly. "I'm so sorry I was not there sooner."

Scully wrapped her arms around him, under his jacket. She clung to him, a life raft on an endless sea. She wouldn't cry; she'd cried enough. She would drift with Mulder for as long as he would let her. He was solid, safe.

He stroked her hair. She smelled like the ocean, hearty and alive. "Scully," he finally said. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Yes," she said. She realized she'd spoken the truth. She could trust Mulder with her safety, her life.

He gently turned her around so that her back was toward him. His right arm went around her body, under her breasts, and held her tightly. Her heart fluttered. "Mulder-"

"Shh," he soothed. "It will only hurt for a little while." A small shiver of fear racked her body as he tightened his embrace. Her eyes grew wide. His hand worked the little tie at her side, loosening her wrap-around blouse. She tensed, pushing his hand away.

"Stop fighting me," he murmured. Scully closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.

He brushed her hair away, exposing her neck and shoulder. His free hand lathed little circles there, kneading experimentally and then smoothing away the soreness. This is not so bad, she thought.

Then, his hand slipped beneath the collar of her blouse. He applied pressure right over the bundle of nerves set on fire by the hell she’d endured in that trunk. She cried out despite herself. The pain was shocking, nearly as bad as it had been during the nightmare with Duane Barry. She felt sick. He rested his face alongside hers, placing a gentle kiss at her temple. Scully could feel his stubble on her cheek. And then, the pressure increased.

She was openly crying now. The pain was blinding, a white-out poker; it was everywhere, everything. She struggled to breathe, to maintain control. Mulder rubbed little circles at her side, steadying her, calming her. His cool breath blew over her face, chilling the tears there like a peppermint balm and keeping her conscious. Mulder her torturer, her comforter.

He moved his fingers again, applying gentle pressure at a new angle and with less intensity. The pain began to dissipate in degrees, replaced by a warmth, a pleasure that stole her breath. She closed her eyes, letting it build around her.

Mulder's lips were at her ear. "Feeling better Scully?" His voice was both ragged and smooth. He smiled into her neck and placed a gentle kiss there.

Whatever was left of her higher brain function permitted her a weak nod. The pain was gone, but it had left a sweeter agony than before. She wet her lips, stifling a moan. Scully found his hand at her waist and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She could feel his breath on her neck as he moved her collar up to its rightful place. Scully thought she could sense a slight tremble in his hand as he put both arms around her and retied the blouse.

"Mulder." The sound of his name on her lips was both foreign and familiar. She delighted in its alien magnetism. She turned to look at him. His eyes were dark and telling and seemed to hold her there. The light from the full moon cast his features in sharp and beautiful contrast.

She put her hands on either side of his face, drawing him close enough for her mouth to claim his. She kissed him.

Mulder grunted in surprise, and she smiled against him. He buried his hands in her hair, lips moving easily over hers. Experimental at first, then proprietary. She moved her arms down to his neck, his chest; through the gaps in his buttoned shirt her fingers found the fine hair there.

Mulder deepened the kiss, exploring the depths of her mouth, drinking her in. She began pulling at his his tie, struggling with the intricate knot. There was no past or future, then. There was him, and this, and it was all that mattered.

Mulder’s hands moved down her back to cup her backside. His mouth was hot, eager, burning the flesh of her face, her neck, the shell of her ear. His teeth scraped along her collar bone, and she gasped. He pulled her into his lap, his hands at her waist, and looked at her. She was beautiful. More than beautiful. Her lips were full, her eyes heavy with desire. Her skin was awash in moonlight and it shone with an ethereal glow. He needed to see more of it. His hand worked the little tie he'd fastened only moments before, letting her blouse fall away. She finished removing it by pulling her arms through the sleeves and tossing it onto the floor.

Mulder had never wanted a woman more, loved a woman more than he wanted and loved Dana Scully. Reverently, he smoothed his hands down her arms, his touch leaving goose flesh in its wake. She smiled down at him through a curtain of hair. Her lace bra was lavender and matched the cool luminescence of her skin. Her breasts heaved gently with her breath, the softly swelling mounds dewy in the humid air. Mulder placed an open-mouthed kiss there.

Scully arched her back in response, a small moan escaping her lips. Every sense was on fire; she was scorched by his touch, emblazoned by the branding iron of his supple mouth. Their mutual desire permeated her body and mind.

And it frightened her, too. The little voice that had been so dormant, so trampled by her need began to awaken. It needled her in the dark. She silenced the small warning voice; it did not know. How could it?

Scully moved against his hardness, hearing him inhale sharply. His hands moved up her sides, fixing her there. Mulder looked at her with open wonder; he marveled at this rare creature born and blinking at the sun, the center of his world.

She realized then that she could love him. She could love this man who knew everything and nothing about her, who was brilliant, protective…at times an open book to her and at other times a complete enigma. She could love him and never look back.

But then she thought of their partnership…the trust, the easy back and forth that had become the one constant in her life…how would this change it?  The little voice wailed.

Mulder sensed the change in her immediately. Tears spilled unbidden down her face, and she covered them with her hands. "Oh God Mulder," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

He embraced her gently, tucking her head beneath his chin. He rubbed her arms lightly. "I know," he said into her hair. "It's ok."

She turned her face into his chest. She couldn't look at him. "I'll wait for you Scully," he told her after several moments. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

-0-0-0-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the XmasFiles Creative Challenge on Tumblr: Day 24: Cookies

 

-0-0-0-

She woke up a little later than usual. The sun streamed through the sheer curtains, painting the already bright bedroom with mellow tones. She stretched leisurely in the large bed and closed her eyes. Suddenly, the events of last night came streaming back. His hands on her…warm, reassuring. His mouth, relentless. Her face burned hot with the memory, tempering the cool pillow.

Scully padded to the bathroom where she dressed and prepared for the day. She chose a pair of cream-colored slacks and matching silk blouse. The lighter color helped to cool the blush in her cheeks.

She finished tucking in her blouse and pushed open the double doors that led to the great room. Mulder was sitting at a small table with a glass of orange juice and the morning paper. He did not look up. "Morning. Did you sleep well?"

"I did actually." She crossed to the counter and poured her own glass of juice. There was a tray of cookies on the counter, and she chose a few.

Mulder folded the paper and placed it on the glass table. "How's your shoulder?"

"Great," she said casually. She stretched for a plate on a higher shelf, and his eyes never left her. "Whatever you did to me helped immensely."

He smiled generously at her back. "I'm sure it did."

 _Damn_.She slowly turned around to absorb the full brunt of his satisfied smirk. Momentarily, her temper flared. She imagined slapping him, kissing him, maybe both. Instead, she joined him at the table.

As much as her ire delighted him, he quickly amended his expression. "Acupressure," he replied simply. He was spreading jam onto half of an English muffin with such methodical ease that she found herself momentarily fascinated. "I learned about reflexology in college. I'm glad it made you feel...better." He savored that last word, no doubt languishing in the memory of last night. He smiled then, and she tracked the English muffin all the way to his mouth. Suddenly, Scully felt very warm.

She cleared her throat and picked at her treat. "What's the plan today?" She felt flustered, and it would be good to get to work if only to keep her mind busy.

"We meet Sergei at noon. That leaves us just a little over an hour. You slept late Scully."

She chewed thoughtfully, fighting her way through the awkwardness that was apparently affecting only her. "I was exhausted," she said finally.

He nodded, looking at her. He was staring at her so intently that she stopped chewing. "You look amazing this morning. That color complements you so well."

She shut her eyes and exhaled a long breath through her nose. "I can't do this Mulder."

Scully stood and crossed to the kitchen. She placed her plate in the sink with a clatter.  "I can't have a conversation about this right now."

She was pacing, her hands on her hips. He met her halfway, somewhat bemused by her apparent discomfort. "What conversation," he inquired gently. "I can’t pretend last night didn’t happen, Scully.  I just can’t."

He closed the distance between them, but he she wouldn't look at him. "Hey," he said quietly. He cupped the side of her face. "I said I would wait for you. I meant that. Everything is on your terms, always."

She looked at him blankly. His words made no sense given the fact that he had orchestrated nearly every second of their time together from the moment of their first meeting. What hotel they stayed at, what cases they took...most of the time even what crummy restaurant they chose.  She never resented him for it; Mulder was a natural leader and had worked on his own for so long, autonomy came natural to him.

His voice broke through her thoughts.  "I may wait for you, but I'm not immune to your charms," he said slyly. He leaned in close, just above her ear, and she could tell he had freshly shaved. "The tailoring on those pants is incredible."

She laughed and pushed him off playfully. Secretly she appreciated the remark, Mulder’s unique way of telling her she had a nice ass.

She looked up at him, suddenly worried. "Are we ok?" Scully didn't want what had happened or didn't happen the night before to spoil their working relationship. Their friendship.

Mulder favored her with his twitch of a smile. "Of course we are. And we will be." He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Now let's get to work."

-0-0-0-

Sergei Romanov was a slight man with jet black hair and small deep-set eyes. He wore a dark suit that looked too big for him. Mirrored sunglasses were perched on his angular nose. To Scully, he looked incredibly young.

Scully had donned a matching blazer to complete her ensemble, and she wore a pair of amber-colored glasses that matched the fire in her hair.

She strode across the sunlit street, Mulder's hand at her back. The blazing sun picked up the peachy tones in her complexion, the copper in her hair.  The tendrils flamed against the light-colored suit. When they reached the street adjacent to the meeting place, Mulder fell back and out of step with her.

He loved the way she carried herself, shoulders back and delicate chin jutted ever so slightly. She had been this way from the moment she walked into his basement office, hand out to him. He allowed himself a small smile of admiration for this woman who was so many things to him, who he had known and not known for so long.

Mulder had arranged the meeting at a small street cafe several miles away. The man saw them coming and stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"Sergei," Mulder said warmly. "This is my associate, Tara Collins." Sergei stood and appraised them, but did not offer his hand.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Collins?" The man's Russian accent was watered down from life abroad.

Scully studied him. "Not as much as I can do for you," she countered easily. "I'm not looking for a partnership, Mr. Romanov. I'm looking for contacts. I have information, you have questions." She sat back in the chair.

"Ms. Collins is more interested in an alliance with you," Mulder interjected, "a working relationship. Here are her terms." Mulder slid the dossier with Scully's fabricated information across the table.

Sergei glanced at it only briefly. "You are aware of the implications of my involvement with an American." He looked at her appraisingly. "And a woman."

Scully pursed her lips slightly and met the man's cool stare. "America no longer has anything to offer me," she said darkly. "And as for my being a woman, that is of no consequence."

Sergei smiled crookedly, revealing a row of sharp teeth. His youthful appearance was gone, and his dark expression made Scully uncomfortable though she did not portray it. "I think we can work something out," he said finally. "Now if we can just look at those access codes-"

Mulder's bitter laughter cut him off abruptly. "Sergei, you really have no idea what you're doing, do you?" His's laughter abruptly stopped, leaving a cold tension in the air. He looked at the man derisively, then back at Scully. "I'm sorry I wasted your time, Ms. Collins." Mulder stood and let Scully lead them away from the table. To his satisfaction, Mulder could feel the man's control slipping.

"Marty, wait," Sergei said hurriedly. "You haven't heard my terms. Please."

With his back still turned, Mulder smiled. Facing him again, he eyed the man coldly, then looked over at Scully. "Ms. Collins?" His eyes twinkled when he looked at her; he was letting her take the reigns, she realized, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

Scully looked at the man Mulder had so easily deduced to a sniveling puddle and set her mouth. "Let's talk," she said.

-0-0-0-


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Xmas Files Creative Challenge on Tumblr. Day 25: Presents

 

-0-0-0-

Sitting at the dining table in the hacienda, Mulder and Scully reviewed the information obtained from meeting with the contact. Sergei had provided them with the names of several of his source men, a lead that could potentially open up a rabbit hole of black market criminal activity and espionage leading to the arrest of arms dealers all the way up to a few high-ranking government officials.

She couldn't stop thinking of how Mulder had worked Sergei. She very rarely got to see profiler Mulder in action, but she had a new appreciation for his much-lauded talent. The way he read Sergei, countered his next move…it was nothing short of masterful.  

She realized then how out of place she was, how her part in this had not really been necessary at all.  

“Mulder,” she began quietly. “Why did we come here?”  He looked at her curiously, but said nothing.  “I mean, I know why you came here, but why am I here?  You didn’t need me for this operation,” she said finally.  “You could have left me in Washington working on some of our other cases.”  

She stood and began to steadily pace in front of where he still sat at the table.  “I don’t even need to be here.”  She made a helpless gesture with her hands, and then placed them on her hips.  

Mulder pursed his lips, looking at her.  “Do you not want to be here,” he asked her quietly.

“No, that’s not what I said, I-“

“You’re my partner, Scully,” Mulder said evenly.  “Who else would I take to Cuba?”

Scully bowed her head in resignation.  “That’s not the point, Mulder.  The Bureau is already on us about travel expenses; you could have come by yourself. You didn’t need me!”

“I always need you,” he said quietly, and finally stood.  Her feet were bare, and he loomed large over her.  “I’ll always need you Scully,” he said, a little more clearly this time. He stopped in front of her, his hands trailing the length of her arms.  

She closed her eyes.  

“And I’m not letting it happen again,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.  He drew her close, his body enveloping her.  He pressed his lips into her hair, her temple, the corner of her eye. “Never.” He murmured it each time he came in contact with her skin.  

For a moment she stopped breathing.  There was so much grief and power and presence in his words.   _Duane Barry._ He would never let it happen again. And that’s why she was here and not in Washington.  She was his partner, and would always be with him so he could make sure Duane Barry  _never happened again._

“Mulder,” she breathed. “Mulder stop.”  He wouldn’t.  He didn’t even hear her.  He was pressing his lips into her collar bone, down the length of her shoulder. Gentle, urgent, life-affirming kisses. She pulled away, holding his face in her hands.

“I’m right here Mulder. I’m right here.”  

He nodded.  The love in his eyes shone so acutely that she knew there would be no going back from what they had revealed to each the other night. But it did not mean they had to rush things.  

"I can't cross that line yet Mulder." Her eyes glittered, her voice thick with emotion. He still held her as if she was one of the last presents under the Christmas tree, his eyes full of wonder. She shook her head slightly. "I can't."

"I know," he said. "And I would never ask you to." His voice was tender, almost penitent. He smoothed her hair until he was framing her face with his hands. "But if we could meet somewhere in the middle..."

She huffed a little laugh. Was it any different than what they were already doing? Scully wondered how long she could walk a tightrope between friends and lovers, work partners and life partners. If Mulder was there to give her balance, perhaps she could do anything.

He kissed her then. Not with the ferocity of the night before, but with a sort of soft wonder and newness born of something deeper than desire. Something sacred, something real.

Scully didn't know exactly where the line of demarcation was between them, but she found herself less wary of crossing it.

-0-0-0-


End file.
